


A Gift in Search of a Recipient

by KillClaudio



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: (mostly porn but a few sneaky feelings sneaked in), Hysterical Literature, Loss of Control, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Translation Available, any resemblance to real computer stuff is purely coincidental, tiny bit of voice kink, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 17:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18168296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillClaudio/pseuds/KillClaudio
Summary: "I had no idea you foundNumerical Methods in Knowledge-Based Systemserotic," Harold said.





	A Gift in Search of a Recipient

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into Chinese available by [areuthere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areuthere/pseuds/areuthere): [A Gift in Search of a Recipient](http://www.mtslash.me/thread-282627-1-1.html).

"Don't move," John murmured.

Harold lowered his book to look at John, sprawled across the bed between Harold's legs. "I wasn't planning on it. What are you doing?"

"Nothing." John shifted and pushed up Harold's t-shirt, mouthed lightly at the sliver of bare skin revealed there. He smelled mostly of soap, but John could still detect the faint scent of copper and soldering chemicals.

Harold had come out of the shower looking ridiculously cute; cheeks flushed, hair damp and sticking up at all angles. John had made tea and herded him into bed, the better to use him as a pillow. Harold was warm and soft and John could quite happily lay there forever, getting his hair petted while he nuzzled at Harold's stomach and ran his hands up and down his thighs.

Then again, John's carefully honed observational skills were telling him that Harold had just read the same page three times. John wasn't above teasing him a little.

He pressed his face to the front of Harold's boxers, then hooked his fingers in the waistband. "Keep reading," he said, and added, "aloud."

"I had no idea you found _Numerical Methods in Knowledge-Based Systems_ erotic," Harold said.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Harold. Go on."

Harold gave him a skeptical look, but found his place and started reading. "Knowledge representation in complex systems must contend with the problem of uncertainty management, either through Bayesian methods, Fuzzy Set theory…"

John settled himself more comfortably on his stomach and bit softly at Harold's inner thigh, just enough to make him shiver. Then he pulled down his boxers and bent to take Harold's half-hard cock in his mouth.

The steady voice above John never wavered as he gently sucked and licked, but Harold's cock started to fill immediately, lifting and pushing its way into John's mouth, greedy for more. John happily gave in to its demands, enthusiastically sucking while its owner pretended to pay attention to his book.

He moved slowly up and down until Harold was good and wet, then pulled back to drop sloppy kisses up and down his cock. When John swirled his tongue over the head, Harold's voice trembled ever so slightly before going back to its familiar cadence. John hid his delighted smile in Harold's thigh before moving back where he belonged.

It wasn't the sound of Harold's voice that turned John on, much as he loved Harold's voice. It was the sound of him stuttering, his breathing getting harsher, his words coming in uneven gasps.

It was breaking Harold's perfect self-control that John found addictive.

Most of the time he didn't manage it. Harold was so good; good with his hands and his mouth and his dick, good with his voice murmuring beautiful filth in John's ear, and he had an old-fashioned need to make sure John got off first. John would do his best to hold out, counting the threads in his Egyptian cotton sheets for distraction, but the feel of Harold's warm, sure hands on him and his hips rocking into John's would push him relentlessly over the edge.

The trick, he had found, was to get Harold wound up before they started, to pin him down on the couch and lick him until he was squirming and tugging at John's clothes. Then John would spread himself out on the bed like a gift and beg Harold to fuck him, and his reward was Harold's desperate whimpers in his ear and Harold gasping, "John, I can't—" and John would come with Harold softening cock inside him and a broad smile splitting his face.

But that wasn't the plan tonight. Tonight, John just wanted to make Harold feel good.

He pulled back a little and sucked at the tip of Harold's cock, slow and lazy, little licks and kisses just keeping him on edge. Harold's voice shook ever so slightly and he paused mid-sentence to swallow. When he started again his voice had gone deeper, breathy, the way it did whenever he explained to John in great detail just what he was about to do to him.

From this angle John could see that Harold's cheeks were flushed, his mouth wet. Other than that he looked almost normal above the waist; t-shirt, glasses, the book held firmly in front of him. Below the waist he looked wanton, his legs wide open, boxers bunched around his hips, the muscles of his thighs tense and shaking.

He kept stopping to take deep, gasping breaths, and when John brushed his lips down Harold's cock and scooted lower to suck softly at his balls, Harold's whole body jerked hard, and the hand not holding the book clenched into a fist at his side.

John licked at Harold's balls, sucked bruises into the tops of his thighs, then slowly, slowly took him all the way down his throat and sucked hard, thrilling at the way Harold's hips twitched uncontrollably and his voice came to a stuttering stop. He let out a soft groan, barely audible.

John squirmed a little against the sheets at the sound, and tried to get a hold of himself. He'd only ever come in his pants once; when his adrenaline high from a fight had him already on edge and a welcome-back kiss in the library had ended in him pressing Harold against the stacks. Harold's eyes had gone dark and he'd ripped his own pants open with shaking hands and pulled John close, and John didn't care about ending up sticky and uncomfortable when he got to see Harold that desperately turned-on.

If he kept thinking about this he was going to embarrass himself.

Harold had given up all pretense of reading and dropped the book; one hand was at John's cheek, other came down to rest lightly at John's neck. John reached up and pushed the hand into his own hair, encouraging. When Harold didn't take the hint, he pulled off and teasingly flicked his tongue just underneath the head of his cock.

"John…"

"Mmmm?" He wasn't going to give in that easily.

Harold got a firmer grip of the back of his head. "John, please…"

John swirled his tongue around the head of Harold's cock, took the tip in his mouth. Then he slid a hand between Harold's legs and pressed behind his balls.

Harold's hips jerked forward involuntarily, shoving his cock down John's throat while his hand held him in place. For a second it was perfect, and then he pulled back abruptly. "John, are you alright? Did I—?"

John growled and dragged Harold's hand back into his hair. He sank back down on Harold's cock, taking him as deep as he could, then held still, lightly sucking, nowhere near enough stimulation.

Harold groaned and his hips jerked up again, and then he was moving, holding John in place while he fucked his mouth, a string of hoarse curses spilling from his lips. John gave himself up to it, let Harold use him as he pleased, savoring the feel of Harold's composure fracturing, and he pushed a hand into his sweats and jerked himself off as Harold came down his throat with a helpless, desperate sound.

After, John kissed his hip and wrapped his arms around as much of Harold as he could reach without moving, lay there while he caught his breath. Harold's hands stroked warm lines over his neck and shoulders, and he could feel Harold's stomach muscles shaking slightly as he laughed.

"I'll certainly never look at Schwecke and Kruse the same way again."

John loves this. Partly because giving Harold pleasure is one of John's greatest joys; partly because he can never resist any challenge that Harold presents; and partly because he knows that there's no power in the universe that can _make_ Harold do anything, so that when the book falls from his hands and his spine arches, fingers twisting in the sheets, John is getting no more than exactly what Harold wants to give him; his trust, his love, his sweet and willing surrender.


End file.
